


Three Times Dick Grayson Was Responsible for Slade Wilson's Death.

by zarabithia



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Murder as Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-08
Updated: 2007-09-08
Packaged: 2019-05-21 07:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14910665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: Slade was a monster. Dick knew this. He had known it for years.





	Three Times Dick Grayson Was Responsible for Slade Wilson's Death.

**Title:** The Loss of Both  
_“Compromise is but the sacrifice of one right or good in the hope of retaining another--too often ending in the loss of both.”_

Slade was a monster. Dick knew this. He had known it for years.

He'd been raised, on the other hand, to try to save everyone. No matter how evil. No matter how awful their crimes...there was supposed to be forgiveness for all.

Dick had believed that, for years. Moreover, that belief had dictated every single decision he'd ever made. It had also forced him to be civil and offer truce after truce to the man whose predatory look made him shiver internally out of revulsion.

Things changed the day that Slade Wilson raised his weapon and threatened Dick's little brother.

Every truce, every belief his parents and Bruce - and Clark - had fought so hard to instill in the boy... fell away.

But the skills Bruce had taught him didn't.

For the first time, Dick swallowed down his disgust and opened up his bed to the man who had never made his want a secret.

Others, who didn't understand his reasons, tried to _save_ him...and it hurt to turn away his fellow Titans...to turn away Roy...to turn away Clark... to turn away _Tim_ and it hurt perhaps worst of all to not be able to save Rose, who despite worshiping a man who had already twice over proved his unworthiness to be a parent, deserved to be saved.

In a way Dick couldn't afford to care about.

All that mattered was making sure _Tim_ \- and all the other Titans Dick _wouldn't_ let down the way he'd let down Donna - was safe.

And in the end, when Slade finally trusted Dick enough for Dick to fulfill his plan, everyone Dick had pushed away and every slimy touch from the murderer in his bed was worth it as Dick proved to the sleeping form in his bed that he wasn't nearly as immortal as the arrogant bastard seemed to believe.

Dick wasn't quite fast enough to pull away from Slade's one last retaliatory attempt to settle the score.

Dick's final thought was that losing his life was a small price to pay in order to make certain that Slade's reign of terror was over for good.

 

* * *

**Title:** Good Deeds Live Forever  


_"A man must be willing to die for justice. Death is an inescapable reality and men die daily, but good deeds live forever."_

Ninety percent of his brain or not, Slade Wilson was no match for Superman. On the day that Slade made good on the contract to end Dick Grayson's life, Superman reminded the mercenary of this fact.

Glancing down from the uncomfortable grip Superman had him in, Slade Wilson's response was to laugh. "Am I supposed to be frightened?" Slade asked.

"I could kill you," Clark said softly. Indeed, his eyes glistened with red as he made the threat.

"Ah, I see. I'm supposed to pretend you won't put me in a prison I will break out of again next week?" Slade smirked down at Clark as the Kryptonian tightened his grip around Slade's throat.  "Or perhaps I am supposed to pretend that for all your strength, you've never used it to the full extent necessary to actually be of any use to anyone?" Slade continued to taunt, heedless of the growing sound of the excited little boy who had always ran to greet Superman whenever Bruce tolerated his presence in Gotham in the back of Clark's mind.

The little boy Slade had taken away forever.

"He trusted you." God, Dick should have...

"He should have known better," Slade said simply.

Clark squeezed his hands around Deathstroke's neck tightly enough that he could feel Wilson's vocal cords struggling to move against the palm of his hand. It was enough to make the other man stop _talking_...long enough for Clark to think.

He thought of Lex, and how strongly Clark had once believed in a man who had gone on to cause so much death and destruction...of Smallville...of Ma and Pa who would say that even the worst of the worst deserved a pardon.  But the more he tried to think of Kansas, the more he pictured a carefree acrobat hanging from the rafters of his barn...and the entirely too short summers in which Bruce had occasionally looked _happy_.

Bruce wouldn't ever be happy again. Not after what Deathstroke had taken away from him. Bruce was the one person who ached more than Clark did. Despite every vow Bruce had made to the contrary over the years, Clark wasn't at all certain that Bruce wouldn't kill Deathstroke when he caught up to them. He'd nearly done so when the Joker had taken away Jason. With Dick... there would be no "almost" about it. Clark was certain.

Or Bruce would die trying. 

 **No.**  Clark had already lost too much on this day. He wouldn't allow more to be taken.

Deathstroke was right. He'd never used his strength to the full extent necessary to be of _any_ use.

Dick's cheerful voice rang in his head, and the broken form of Nightwing's body swam in his memory, on the moment that Clark let loose with the heat vision and stepped over the line to change that fact.

For the better.

 

* * *

 

 **Title:** An Ideal of Conduct  


_“He has honor if he holds himself to an ideal of conduct though it is inconvenient, unprofitable, or dangerous to do so.”_

Wally hadn't seen Nightwing in a while. After Donna's death, Dick hadn't dealt well. Not that any of them had, frankly. But their leader had taken it the worst of all, and the only Titan with the patience to continue to appeal to the broken Bat was Roy Harper.

Wally had never expected the Outsiders to last, but he had applauded Roy's efforts to keep reaching their leader.

He'd always hoped Roy would be successful.

When the day the call came to tell him that reality would never have the chance to take place, the time that stretched from the first broken Dick sob to the second felt like an eternity to the man for whom time never managed to move fast enough for in the first place.

By the time Roy and Slade's name both slipped out of Dick's mouth, Wally hung up the phone. He didn't need to hear anymore.

Out of respect for the relationship that his best friend had shared with Roy, Wally waited for Dick to catch up to them.

"It's just business, kid," Deathstroke had the audacity to say, and Wally hoped Barry would forgive him for what he knew had to do in the instant that Slade spoke those words.

Dick's voice was free from the sobs that he'd had in the phone call. "So is this, Terminator," he answered in a voice Wally had never heard from his best friend before.  It was cold, unfeeling...and Wally knew, hearing that flat voice, that any hope of Dick getting over Donna's death had died alongside Roy.

It only made what Wally _wanted_ to do all the easier.

"Really, Grayson? And here I thought the Titans never killed anyone."

"I'm tired of losing the people I care about because of people like you," Dick responded. "And we're not Titans anymore.  We grew up."

That was all the assurance that Wally needed from their leader.  The memory of every silly fight _//"You're not even a real Titan!"//_ reflected back from Slade's armor and Wally's apologies to Roy went unsaid as he claimed the life of the man who took away any right to have any future arguments.

When it was over, and the brain matter - all enhanced ninety percent of it - splattered all over the pavement, Wally moved to their leader, and held him as he fell apart.

Together, they both mourned the passage of their Titan brother.


End file.
